


Television

by DeanRH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Season, Canon Compliant, Kinda Weird, M/M, Meta, Multiple Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 15,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22373518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRH/pseuds/DeanRH
Summary: Sam and Dean learn a lot about alternate universes.Polly keeps hearing a lot about how much she resembles some television character in a show she's only seen briefly.When her friends finally convince her to watch it, the resemblances start to get downright disturbing.And she keeps seeing the same blue-eyed guy everywhere.AU until it isn't. And then it is. And then it isn't again.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. Pilot

"You know," said the pretty redhead with an exclamation of red at her lips, "you _really_ look like Dean Winchester."

Polly stared at her. The redhead toyed with her straw, somewhat suggestively. 

"Um," said Polly. "I'm a woman."

The redhead looked puzzled, then horrified. She dropped her seductive look completely.

"Oh my _God,_ " she said. "I'm _so sorry,_ I -"

She sputtered out a few excuses, grabbed her bag and left, the bells clanging as the door shut behind her. Outside, Polly could see her take out her phone (pink, glittered) and clearly call up some friend with her embarrassing tale, hiding her eyes behind one red-manicured hand.

Polly sighed. She went back to checking the cups.

"That's all right," she muttered. "I'm used to it."

***

And Polly was.

Used to it, that is.

This wouldn't be the first time she'd been told that she looked like Dean Winchester. A television show she'd only seen briefly after someone mentioned her attitude and dialect were reminiscent of him. 

Then she'd made the mistake of getting a short, fashionable haircut. And the hits just kept on coming.

She wasn't sure if she ought to feel insulted that people assumed she was a man, or flattered that at least she looked like a _handsome_ man. That dude must get all the women he wants, she thought to herself. 

Not that she. Uh. Wanted any women herself. Straight as an arrow, she was.

Polly sighed again.

Lunch rush was coming in, and she forgot all about it.

***

Later that day, she was at a coffeeshop. Exhausted, running on fumes, looking for a caffeine fix.

"Hey! Polly!" 

She turned to see her friend, Jennifer, waving at her. Polly grinned.

"Hey Jen," she returned, as her friend joined her.

"Did you watch it yet?" she asked.

"What? Supernatural?" asked Polly. "I've been meaning to, just been real busy."

"Oh, come _on,_ Polly!" said Jennifer, tying up her long brown hair. "How many people have to tell you that you look _just like_ this guy before you'll watch it?"

"Not that interested," said Polly. She was really digging the look of the guy at the cash register. Dark hair, chiseled features, soft lips, bright blue eyes.

He smiled as he handed over her coffee. She smiled back.

But Jennifer was not to be dissuaded.

"It's not just that you _look_ like him," she said doggedly, following her to a table. "I mean, you lived on the road, your family has a muscle car, your sister is taller and younger than you - "

"Okay, okay, I get it," Polly said. "I'll watch the damn thing."

"Promise?" asked Jennifer.

"Promise," said Polly.

She glanced over at the barista again. 

_Hot,_ she thought to herself.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

She could've sworn she'd seen that guy somewhere before.


	2. Episode 1

"Hey Sal."

"What do you want now?"

Polly and Sal had never been close. Her younger sister was a lot more responsible. She had her shit together.

"Can't I spend some time with my little sister?"

"I'm taller than you."

"Fine."

"What is it? Do you need money or something?"

"No! Jeez. I just wanted to hang out."

Sal towered over Polly, looking down on her in more ways than one. Sal was also gorgeous, with beautiful hair, and had a much more classy life than Polly's.

"Sorry. I don't have time today," said Sal, and swept out of the room imperiously.

Polly sighed and slumped onto the couch.

Sal's Netflix account was open.

"Guess it's now or never, huh," said Polly to herself.

She searched through everything until she found what she was looking for.

Supernatural.

She leaned back against the sofa.

At least she'd be able to talk to Jennifer next time they met.

***

Six hours later, Polly was staring at the screen like she had never seen it before.

"What the fuck," she said.

She stood up and paced around the house.

She sat down again.

"What the fuck!" she said again, with feeling.

It didn't change anything.

She had just watched several hours of her own life play out in front of her eyes.

Except it was two brothers, hunting monsters.

Not two sisters who had to live on the road because their Dad was killed in a boating accident and their mom was a manual laborer.

It was like seeing a bizarro mirror universe of her own life.

The sliding-glass door slid open. Sal walked into the house.

"Sal!" cried Polly.

"You're still here?" asked Sal. 

"Yeah, but - have you seen this show?" 

She pointed at the screen.

"Supernatural," Sal read. "Never heard of it."

"But Sal - _look_ ," said Polly. Her sister stared at her like she was nuts. 

After this, she might be.

She paused the show on an image of the brothers.

" _Look at that,_ " she hissed.

Sal rolled her eyes and looked.

And looked.

And looked again.

Her jaw dropped.

She dropped onto the sofa.

"What the fuck?" she said.

"Yeah," said Polly. "And that's not all! The whole thing - it's the same! As us! Our lives, but in this like...weirdo universe."

"Play it for me."

"I thought you were busy - "

"Shut up and put it on."

***

They'd made it through two of the seasons before they finally stopped.

"Do we know one of the writers or something?" asked Sal doubtfully.

"Hell no, I think we'd know about it if we knew somebody famous like that," said Polly. 

"Well, but - how? It's like someone made an urban fantasy based on our lives."

"I don't know. But no wonder my friends have been pushing me to watch this damned thing."

"What if we're the show and that's the reality?" asked Sal.

"Don't start in on me with that metaphysical shit," said Polly. "It's gotta be just a weird coincidence. It _must_ be."

"That's more than zeitgeist, Pol," said Sal. "That's like... _intent._ "

"Will you knock it off? I'm freaked out enough as it is."

"Polly," said Sal slowly. "Didn't you say the show was ending this year?"

"Yeah, that's what Jennifer said."

"So what happens to us when it ends?"


	3. Episode 2

"You're freaking me the fuck out here."

"Well? I mean...this is weird, right?" Sal reasoned. "Look, I'm gonna go research the show and see if I can find any writers who we might know. Can you run to the store and pick up some beer?"

"Yeah, sure," said Polly.

She was shellshocked.

She thought she'd find it amusing, or weird, some guy that looked like her, big deal.

This was something completely off the wall.

"I think, uh," said Polly. "I'm gonna take the Barracuda."

Sal froze on her way up the stairs.

"Dude, we haven't taken that car out in _years_ ," said Sal.

"I know, I just," said Polly, then helplessly gestured at the television.

Sal nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "I get it. You always did love that car. Hell on gas mileage though."

"Impractical," nodded Polly. "But still."

"Good luck. And if the thing breaks down on the way there, don't come cryin' to me."

"Gotcha," said Polly, but she was already out the sliding-glass door and headed down to the old garage.

She pulled the door open. 

Lots of junk in here, over the years. At least most of it wasn't on the car.

It was a one-car garage, and Sal parked her Prius outside, because the 'Cuda needed a warm place for the winter after their mom died.

Then it was another winter, and another.

They mostly forgot about it.

Polly pulled at the tarp covering the car, exposing the gleaming black metal.

Her heart started beating faster.

This was a _beautiful_ machine.

She climbed in with reverence. The car had a musty smell. It hadn't been started in ages.

She wondered if it would start at all.

She turned the key in the ignition.

The engine coughed, and she tried again.

Suddenly, the engine turned over, and the 'Cuda came to life with a roar and a purr.

"Good girl," said Polly, patting the dashboard, as she pulled the car out of the garage and drove into the night.

***

The liquor store wasn't too far away, and Sal lived in a fancy neighborhood.

Polly scuffed her shoes as she walked in the door, ripped jeans and leather jackets having gone out of fashion some time ago, and they had never been in fashion in places like this one.

She was getting a couple of six-packs out of the fridge when she noticed someone standing in the convex store mirror.

She straightened up and stared. 

There he was, the same guy with the bright blue eyes, now in a killer threepiece suit that made him look like he'd walked out of somebody's dom fantasy. 

She felt her mouth go dry. How was this guy so _hot_?

And also - he was a barista this morning.

What was he doing here now?

His blue eyes met hers in the mirror, and she froze.

Very, very slowly and deliberatly, he dropped a wink. 

Then he turned to the cashier and paid. He walked out the door while she stood there, unable to move.

When Polly finally got her feet unstuck from the floor, she ran outside.

"Wait!" she shouted.

But the parking lot was empty.

Like he'd never been there.

"Hey, are you gonna pay for that?" the cashier called out the door.

"Oh," said Polly, looking down at the beer in her hands. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I just - I thought I recognized that guy."

She went in to pay. The cashier was giving her a weird look, like he wasn't sure he should be selling her the beer.

"What guy?" he finally asked. She stared at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "The guy that just bought that top-shelf whisky and then left."

The cashier held her gaze.

"You're the only customer the store has had in the last two hours," he said.

Polly stared at him. 

She considered arguing, but she knew she was already pushing it. If she insisted, he might refuse to sell her the beer.

"Oh," she said. "Guess I must be seein' things. Been a long day."

"Sure," said the cashier. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

"What is it?" asked Polly.

"Anybody ever tell you that you look a lot like - "

"Dean Winchester?" asked Polly. The cashier nodded, smiling.

"More than you know."


	4. Episode 3

"So, as far as I can tell, we don't know anybody involved with the program at all."

"Well that's even weirder then, right?"

Polly took a swig of beer.

"Would kinda be nice though," she said, pulling at the label on the bottle.

"What would? Killing monsters?"

"Being closer, as siblings," mumbled Polly. Sal arched an eyebrow.

"Oh, so _now_ you want to be buddy-buddy? What happened to you living your own life and getting out of Dodge, all that crap?"

"Sorry," said Polly. "I shouldn't have left, after mom died."

Sal sighed.

"It's okay," she said. "I get it. And hey. We're all we've got left."

"Something else weird," said Polly. 

"Weirder than this?" 

"Sort of," she said. "I keep seeing this guy around. Dark hair, blue eyes. Super hot, believe me."

"Wouldn't know. I'm into women."

"Yeah, yeah," said Polly. "And I'm into guys."

"Not just guys," said Sal.

"Not having this _am I bisexual_ argument again," said Polly, irritated. 

Sal held up her hands.

"Anyway," Polly continued. "This dude was my barista this morning, right? At the coffeeshop down on Lake."

"Okay," said Sal.

"Then I see him at the liquor store, in the mirror, dressed to the fuckin' nines like he's some kinda hotshot lawyer or that dude from that sex book," said Polly.

"Sex book? Fifty Shades?" asked Sal.

"Yeah that. Like, he looked _rich._ Then he fuckin' _winks_ at me in the mirror, heads on out. I go after him, there's nobody out there."

"Weird," said Sal.

"Not the weirdest part," said Polly. "The cashier said there was nobody there but us."

"He didn't see the guy?"

"No!" said Polly. "Or at least he said so. I thought he wasn't gonna let me leave with the beer. Looked at me like I had three heads."

"Something very weird is going on," said Sal.

"That's for sure," agreed Polly.

"But I mean - why us?" asked Sal. "Our lives aren't exactly interesting. Pretty depressingly run-of-the-mill, if you ask me."

"Gettin' named _Polly_ and _Sally_ was pretty unbelievable," said Polly, taking another drink. "You'd think they'd have a better way to name us after Grandpa Sal and Grandpa Paul."

"Yeah, not our parents' best day," mused Sal. She shook her head, looking up from her laptop.

"You want to keep watching the show?"

"I don't know if I do or I don't."

"I think it's in our best interests to keep watching."

So the two of them went back to the living room and resumed the binge.

***

"Fucking... _what._ "

" _They have the same names as our aunt and uncle Ellen and Bobby, what the fuck_ ," said Polly.

"I don't know what's going on here," said Sal, "but I've been wondering."

"About what?"

Sal picked up the laptop. She typed into it.

"Huh," she said. "Let's skip ahead and watch this episode."

"But we're gonna miss a ton of - "

"I have a hunch. Just trust me, okay?"

"Okay."

She started the first episode of the fourth season. The storyline was compelling and intriguing.

Then there was a scene in a barn.

The doors blew open, sparks spilling all over the floor.

And a man wearing a trenchcoat walked in the doors.

Polly almost dropped her beer.

"That's him!" she shouted. "That's the guy! The guy I keep seeing!"

"That's what I thought," said Sal. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! That's him!"

They watched the episode to the end and then stared at each other.

"Why's he here?"

"Why's he a _dude_ here, if we're women?"

"I don't know," said Sal. "But I think - "

"What?"

"Polly. We've got to find him."


	5. Episode 4

"How the hell are we going to find him?" asked Polly, scrambling after her sister, who was headed out the door in the direction of the 'Cuda.

"I don't know," said Sal. "But we aren't going to find him in the house. If he's showing up where you are, then he must be honing in on you. He seems to be going for discretion, which is understandable, but I think he's the solution to this whole mess."

"Okay, so where do we start?"

"What would you normally be doing right now?"

"Not hanging out on your sofa, that's for sure."

Sal sighed.

"We can discuss sibling rivalry later," she said. "We gotta find this guy."

"Okay," said Polly, getting into the car. "Right now, I'd probably be...at a bar."

"What bar?"

"Any bar."

"You really have a problem with - "

"Not now, Sal."

They drove in silence to one of Polly's favorite watering holes.

Polly parked the car, and they got out.

She pushed the door open, reveling in the moment of warm air and friendly companionship of this bar. 

"There he is!" whispered Polly.

"Where?" 

"The bartender!"

And sure enough, there was the man Polly kept seeing, dressed in a clean white shirt with a towel over his shoulder, laughing at something one of the customers said.

"Damn," sighed Polly. "Why's he gotta be so hot?"

"Okay, down, tiger," said Sal. "You want to approach him or should I?"

"I'll do it," said Polly. "There's gotta be a reason I've been seeing him all day. And I think I've seen him before today, too. Just not so often."

"Good luck," said Sal, and she took a seat at one of the high tables.

Polly went to the end of the bar and took a seat in the corner. She tried to squeeze into the darkest part, away from the crowd. 

She wanted this guy alone for this kind of confrontation.

Whatever it was.

The bartender noticed her and made a beeline over to the corner.

Up close again, she was floored by his looks. He was stunning.

She shook her head. 

She had work to do.

Then she wondered where the hell that thought had come from.

"What can I get you?" said the bartender, and holy hell, that gravel voice.

It was definitely the same guy from earlier.

It was also, definitely, the same guy from the show.

Polly realized she'd been staring.

"I can recommend Sex on the Beach," he announced.

She stared at him.

"To drink?" he added helpfully.

"Oh!" said Polly, instantly feeling herself turning red. "Um. I - I'll have a beer."

"What kind?"

"Whatever you got. I trust you."

The man gave her a long look. Then he shook his head and walked away.

Polly's mind was reeling.

Something was off.

Something was _very_ off.

She was trying to remember something, and she couldn't quite grasp it.

She looked at the bar, at the people milling around, looking at the jukebox, Sal sitting at the table.

She narrowed her eyes, hunting the thing that kept trying to elude her in her own mind.

Suddenly, there was a brown bottle sweating water in her vision.

"Here you go," said the man, who sounded like he worked a phone sex line for a living.

"Uh," she said. "Okay. Thank you."

The bartender turned to go.

"Hey, by the way," said Polly.

The bartender froze.

"I keep seein' you around," she said. "All day. Before that, too. What gives?"

The bartender turned to her again, blue eyes sparking.

It reminded her of that scene in the show, where he walked under a shower of sparks.

"Thanks, that's a great suggestion!" he said very loudly.

Then those intense blue eyes laser-focused on her.

She shrank back.

"Don't look around," he said. "Don't draw any attention to yourself. I'm getting you both out of here."

"What?" she asked, and then, after he gave her a warning look, repeated it softly.

"You're trapped, and I've come to rescue you," he said.

"Trapped? Rescue? What are you talking about, man?" asked Polly.

The man looked disappointed, and sad.

"I'll always rescue you," he said softly. 

His eyes never left hers.

"Dean."


	6. Episode 5

"Ha ha, very funny," said Polly. "I look like Dean Winchester, I've heard it before."

The man straightened up and looked at her like she'd kicked his puppy.

"You don't remember," he said. "This will be harder than I thought."

Polly motioned to Sal, who stood from her seat and walked over to join her at the bar.

"This is my sister, Sal," she said.

"Sam," the bartender nodded.

" _Sal_ ," corrected Sal.

The bartender sighed.

"I don't know how to get through to you both," he said. "You're in deep."

"This guy says we're trapped, Sal," said Polly.

"Trapped in what?" asked her sister.

"I never got an answer to that one," Polly told her. 

She turned to the bartender.

"Trapped in what?"

"A fanfiction AU," he said.

"A what what?" asked Polly, confused.

Sal, on the other hand, stared at him in shock.

"Do you know what that is?" whispered Polly. Sal just nodded.

"I've been - inhabiting different alternate versions of my character, trying to get to you," explained the bartender. "I've followed you across multiple alternate universes. This one seemed to stick."

"This is nuts," said Polly.

"Maybe not," said Sal. "Are you the angel Castiel?"

The bartender nodded.

"Are you seriously listening to this guy?" asked Polly, astonished. Sal nodded.

"Unless we're the victims of a seriously elaborate prank, this is the first answer that I might accept," said Sal.

"We need to get out of here," said Castiel urgently. "We don't know what might happen. We might end up in an omegaverse story next, for all we know."

Polly watched Sal's expression blanch and her eyes bug out.

"I'm guessing that's a bad thing," she said.

"You don't wanna know," said Sal.

"You're both out of your minds."

Polly finished her beer and stood up.

"You enjoy your hallucinations. I'm outta here."

"Pol, you can't drive the 'Cuda like that," said Sal. "You just had a beer."

"Free country," she said.

"Dean."

There it was again.

That strange tug.

That yearning, longing.

_What the fuck?_

There was a lot of that going on.

Polly tried to turn back around, but was suddenly shoved forward, guided by an unseen hand, a marionette on a string.

She fought it as hard as she could.

She looked over her shoulder, desperate for help, terrified.

And that one word of faith came pouring out of her mouth:

" _Cas!_ "

***

Everything was dark.

Then a slow clapping sound.

"Man," said a voice. "You guys! It's like nothing I can do gets through to you. I give you gifts. You throw them away."

"Who's there?" asked Polly, struggling against her bonds.

Her - _his._

_My name is Dean Winchester._

_Sam is my brother._

_Castiel is - is my best friend._

There had never been a purer rush of hatred flowing through Dean than he felt at that moment. Losing his memory had been one of the most terrifying things he'd ever experienced.

And he'd had a lot of terrifying experiences.

"Let there be light," said the voice, and suddenly they were sitting in a casino, tied to chairs.

"Fuck you, Chuck," spat Dean. "What the _fuck_ was that?"

"I wanted to make you happy!" Chuck replied. "Gave you a normal life. No monsters! No nothing. But it sure does make you wonder, doesn't it? If you and Sam really care about each other, or you're forced to because of circumstances?"

He shook his head.

"Heartbreaking."

"Why'd you make us into girls?" demanded Dean. "And _Polly? Sal?_ Where the fuck did those names come from?"

Sam was still out cold, it seemed.

"Call it just desserts," sneered Chuck. "You weren't always nice to women."

"You _wrote me_ that way!" snarled Dean. "Asshole."

"Watch your mouth," said Chuck. "Besides. I thought it'd give you an opportunity to feel all those feelings for men without worrying about whether it was _wrong._ Hilarious, by the way, since I don't care about that kind of thing. Into it myself, in fact."

Chuck caressed the side of Dean's face. He leaned away from the touch.

"But then, of course, Mr. Crack-in-his Chassis had to go _ruin it_ ," said Chuck. "You two are rebellious, but Castiel? He keeps messing up my plans."

Cas looked up at Chuck.

"Bite me," he said. 

Chuck shook his head.

"Oh, no," he said. "See, it's not _Dean's_ interest in men I have a problem with at all. In fact, I'd hoped it would lead him to me, one day."

"Dream on," said Dean, subtly trying to wriggle out of his ropes.

"But no," said Chuck, ignoring Dean, " _you_ had to go and _fall in love with him._ "

Dean froze.

He looked up at Castiel.

Castiel wouldn't look at him.

"And then you _pursued_ him through all these universes, many of which I _don't_ control, may I add," said Chuck, "to find him and 'bring him home'. I mean, jeez, Castiel, I know I wrote you as the one who rescued Dean from Hell, but taking refuge in bad writing? I thought you were better than that."

"You're one to talk about bad writing," growled Castiel. "All you do is keep writing us apart. The story's going on without you, and you can't handle it!"

The corner of Chuck's mouth lifted in a smile.

"Everyone's a critic," he said. "But you know what, Castiel? You've outlived your purpose in the narrative. You're _boring_ now. Nobody wants you. The audience thinks you're a third wheel, and no, that's not a good thing."

Castiel hung his head. Chuck looked at Dean. 

" _Dean_ sure doesn't want you now," he said. "A half-assed angel, not even worth putting on top of the Christmas tree. You've been in the story too long, outlived your usefulness to Dean and Sam. And to me."

Then Chuck extended his arms and his smile widened.

"So I've decided it's time to write you out."


	7. Episode 6

"Oh, and that thing about Rhonda Hurley and her pink panties?" Chuck said. "Thought you'd enjoy being a girl. You know. After all that."

Dean darted a look at Sam, who was blessedly still unconscious.

"You can't erase Cas," said Dean. "You can't erase us."

"Sure I can," said Chuck. "I created you. I can take it away. Dust to dust. You know that."

"We've already defied your expectations," said Castiel. "Why should this be any different?"

"You came back _because I wanted you to!_ " roared Chuck. "Because _I said so!_ I can destroy you."

"Funny thing about that," said Sam. "We can destroy _you._ "

He lifted his hand, and the ropes fell to the ground.

As Dean watched, with a horrible flashback to other memories of Sam in this position, his brother snapped his fingers.

And Chuck disintegrated before their eyes.

"What? Wait, Sam, no - "

And then they were alone.

Dean looked over at his brother and grinned.

"You big faker," he said.

"Had to," said Sam. "I needed him distracted. But that's not going to last long."

"So you didn't kill God?"

"No," Sam huffed a laugh, untying Dean's ropes. "Just slowed him down a little, that's all."

"Sam, what did you do?" asked Castiel.

He still wouldn't look at Dean.

"Chuck said some of those universes were ones he didn't control," said Sam. " _And_ that we keep rebelling against him, especially Cas. Which means - "

"He's not actually in control of this reality, either," said Dean. "Wow."

"Then who is?" asked Castiel.

"That, I don't know," said Sam. "But it was a gamble. Seems we have some agency here, so I thought I'd try something."

"How'd you get him to disintegrate?"

"I didn't. He did it to himself."

"What?"

"He believed I could do it, so it happened," Sam explained, pulling the ropes away from Castiel. 

"Sam. That's brilliant," said Dean.

"Quick thinking," Castiel agreed.

"But we gotta get out of here and hightail it somewhere else as fast as we can," said Sam.

"Fine by me," said Dean. "Always hated Vegas anyway."

***

Outside, Dean saw the Impala for the first time in what felt like centuries.

" _Baby,_ " he crooned, spreading his arms wide as if he would embrace the car.

"And you want _this_ guy?" asked Sam.

Castiel sighed.

Dean shot them both a look.

"Don't come between a man and his vehicle," said Dean. "All right. Let's get a move on."

***

Baby carried them down the highway, lights flashing past the windows in the darkness.

"You know," said Dean. "I read once that this one guy believed that you got into a plane, and people shook it around for a while, then the doors opened and you believed you'd traveled really far but it was all a hallucination."

"And?" asked Sam.

Dean shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "Doesn't it seem weird that these lights are always here along these highways? And like, we _never_ hit traffic. And Baby _never_ breaks down."

Sam thought about it.

"Huh," he said.

" _And_ you spend far too long looking at the person in the passenger seat instead of the road," Castiel gravelled from the backseat.

"Hey, keep it down back there, peanut gallery," said Dean, blushing. "Where are we going, anyway? We can't outrun God."

"I don't know," said Sam. "That's where my brilliance ends."

"I have a suggestion," said Castiel.

"I'm up for anything," said Dean. "Let's hear it."

"We go where he can't reach us."

There was silence in the car.

"Back into the fanfiction?" asked Dean. 

Castiel nodded.

Dean's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

"Okay," he said. "As long as it isn't 'omegaverse'. Whatever that is."

"Believe me," said Sam, "you do _not_ want to know."


	8. Episode 7

Dean pulled the Impala over.

"Dude, what are you doing?" asked Sam. "We gotta get out of here."

"Yeah, Sam, and how exactly do you plan on doing that?" asked Dean. "Right now we're running on a hamster wheel. We need to get out of the cage."

"How?"

"Cas, you got in there somehow," Dean said. 

"Yes," Castiel agreed.

"Think you could do it again?"

"Possibly."

"Well, how did you do it last time?"

"By doing something Chuck would _never_ write about."

"Which was?"

Dean was startled to see Castiel blush.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Dean sighed in frustration.

"Okay, bud," he said. "Got any bright ideas?"

"I have one. Get out of the car. Both of you."

"But I need the car - "

"It's a construct. You can't take it with you."

Dean looked offended, but he got out of the car.

They stood underneath the starlight. It was a beautiful night.

Castiel was staring at him. Which wasn't unusual, but this time -

He seemed to come to a decision.

He reached out and grabbed Dean by the lapels of his plaid shirt.

"What are you - !"

Castiel planted a kiss on Dean's lips.

Dean's eyes flew open, and just as he was melting into the kiss, he saw Cas reach back and grab Sam's shirtsleeve.

The world suddenly went crazily cockeyed and seemed to turn as they kissed.

Finally, Castiel released him.

Dumb and drunk with it, a silly grin on his face, Dean tried to chase Cas's lips.

But the angel was all business again, holy-tax-accountant serious.

"We're here."

Sam and Dean looked around in surprise.

It was daytime, and they were in a busy city street.

"Where's 'here'?" asked Sam.

"Look," said Castiel, nodding at the shop in front of them.

There was a plate-glass window looking into a cozy-looking coffee shop. It wasn't too busy, but had several customers curled up in big, soft armchairs reading books.

Dean saw himself standing in line.

"What the - "

"Shh," said Castiel.

Then the barista walked out of the back, and the Dean standing in line did a jawdropping double-take. It was Cas, and he was clearly into that.

"Uh," hazarded Dean.

"Coffeeshop AU," said Sam.

"How do you _know_ that?" Dean demanded.

The exquisite variety of facial expressions that traveled across his brother's face told him that he might not want the answer to that question.

"So now what?" asked Dean, feeling his cheeks color as he watched their doubles interacting in the coffeeshop.

"We keep out of sight," said Castiel.

"So we don't take their places?"

"No, it would be far too easy to find us there."

"Cas," said Dean. "Are we... _safe_ here?"

Castiel smiled.

"You heard what Chuck said," he replied. "He doesn't have control over these universes. Which means - "

"He's not the only god," finished Sam. Castiel nodded.

"But until we can figure out a game plan, we need to stay under the radar," he said. "And to do that, we have to keep moving."

"Good, it's like a damned rom-com in there," groused Dean, following the other two down the street.

If he peeked again when they turned the corner, nobody had to know.


	9. Episode 8

They had traveled through several universes when Castiel spoke up.

"I'm tired," he said. "I need a rest."

"Anything you want," said Dean. "There a motel in this place?"

Sam grinned.

"There always is," he said.

"How are you such a nerd?" muttered Dean, but true to his word, there was a motel within walking distance.

"I'd like a room," said Sam. "And another one for these two."

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded.

"Just trust me," said Sam.

"Sam!" Dean grit his teeth but took the key. "What's gotten into him?"

"Later," said Castiel, swaying on his feet.

"Whoa, buddy," said Dean, catching him before he fell. "Let's get you in the room."

"See ya!" said Sam, laughing to himself all the way to his own room.

"Kid's gone nuts," said Dean. "Wow, you're really out of it."

Castiel was gasping next to him.

Dean selfishly loved having the angel pressed up against his side, dependent on him.

It meant he couldn't flit away. 

At least for now.

"All right," said Dean, turning the key in the lock. "Hopefully you'll be able to crash - "

His voice faded away as the door swung open and he looked into the room.

There was only one bed.

"There's only one bed," Dean clarified to Castiel. 

The angel's eyes rolled to look at him.

"What did you expect?" he asked grumpily.

***

Dean sat on the floor against the bed, flicking through channels.

He'd been there for hours, now.

Castiel had walked into the room and faceplanted on the bed. He was out cold in an instant.

Dean figured he'd let the guy sleep.

He wondered why so much of this stuff centered around him and Cas getting together.

After all, he was straight.

Right?

And Cas only kissed him because it was like, the _least likely_ possibility as far as Chuck's writing was concerned.

Right?

He didn't have any answers to his questions, not even the ones he asked himself.

He kept flicking through the channels.

***

Sometime around 4 am, Castiel stirred.

"What time is it?"

"Four in the morning," Dean said, yawning.

"Why are you awake?"

"Didn't want to disturb you."

Castiel made a long-suffering huff into the pillow.

"Get up here."

"What? I, uh - "

"Get up here or I'll put you up here," grumped Castiel.

"Okay, okay," said Dean. He didn't want to admit it, but he was exhausted, and the soft bed was exactly what he was looking for.

He looked at Castiel's sleepy face, a few inches from his own. His half-lidded eyes hid the bright spark of blue.

_Cute,_ thought Dean.

"Uh," he said out loud. "You're _sure_ we're not the main characters in a fan fiction?"

"Yes," grumbled Castiel. "This one is a haunted house AU. And we're not in a haunted house."

"Could just kill the damned ghost and be done with it," said Dean drowsily.

"There are no hunters here," said Castiel. "Or angels."

"Still ghosts, though," said Dean, and then he was fast asleep, lightly snoring.

He didn't know it, but Castiel never closed his eyes again, watching him sleep through the night.


	10. Episode 9

Dean woke slowly to a feeling of warmth and comfort he had never known in his life.

He opened his eyes to see Castiel staring at him from a few inches away.

Instead of shouting and jumping out of bed, like he might have in the past, he just stared back. 

Then he started to smile.

He was safe here, wasn't he?

In the background of someone else's story.

They lay there breathing for a while.

_To hell with it,_ he thought. _Now or never._

"Cas, I -"

Castiel clamped a sudden hand over his mouth.

"Don't," he said.

"Mmph?" asked Dean, brows furrowing.

"Just. Don't. Please."

And to Dean's surprise, and the horrible feeling of rejection following in its wake, Castiel rolled out of bed.

There was a knock on the door.

"Guys?" Sam's voice filtered through the wood. "You decent?"

"Yeah, Sam," said Dean, disappointed that they were, in fact, decent. "Come in."

Castiel opened the door for him, and Sam's blinding smile faded into a look of confusion. His eyes darted back and forth to each of them.

Then he looked as crestfallen as Dean felt.

"Oh. So. Uh. You guys, um."

"Having a little trouble starting this morning, Sammy?" asked Dean, giving up and rolling out of the bed himself.

"No, I just - well. If Cas is recharged, I think we should probably get a move on."

"Sam's right," said Cas. "Let's go."

Dean's ego was still smarting from getting turned down, but he reluctantly trailed after them.

"Only one bed, my ass," he muttered, as he gave one last, longing look to the room, and shut the door.

***

"Where are we now?" asked Dean.

"No idea," said Sam.

"I think this is what they call _canon compliant_ ," said Castiel. "So there are monsters here."

"Damn," said Dean. "Couldn't we just stick to the boring ones?"

"They're not boring," said Sam.

"Okay, what _is_ it with you and this stuff?" asked Dean, rounding on his brother.

"I like to read it, okay?" said Sam defensively. "Sometimes I end up with somebody nice! And you -"

"End up with Cas," finished Dean. "Yeah, I got the memo. Don't think hotwings is interested. Chuck got that right."

"Dean - " Sam started, but Castiel raised a hand to silence him.

"They're coming this way," said Cas, and herded the brothers into an alleyway.

Dean saw himself and Castiel walking down the street, looking as they normally did.

Suddenly, he saw Cas grab Dean and throw him up against the wall.

It reminded him of another, similar time, and he waited for Cas to punch him, while he was also reminded of when Cas grabbed his shirt and kissed him.

"Are they gonna fight?" whispered Dean.

A moment later, Castiel was kissing that Dean passionately.

Dean felt suddenly, ridiculously jealous of himself.

"So not fighting, then," said Sam. "Uh. Guys. I think we should, uh, leave them to it."

Things were getting hot and heavy, and Dean had to be dragged away.

***

"We can't keep running forever," said Dean. "It's gonna wipe you out, Cas."

It was true. Castiel was breathing heavily, and not in the way Dean would have wanted.

"It's not safe to stop," panted the angel.

"Well, it's not safe for you to run your battery down like this either," said Dean.

"Dean's right," said Sam. "Come on, Cas. We've got to find a place to hunker down again."

"Another motel?" suggested Dean.

Castiel nodded, and they found themselves on another street, in the dark this time.

There was a motel in front of them.

"All right, buddy," said Dean. "Let's get you a room."

They walked up to the motel's overhang and Dean stopped dead.

Inside one of the rooms, he saw yet another version of him and Cas.

They were both naked, very much in the middle of something, and Castiel's large, black wings were spread above the two of them as blue grace dripped from the spaces between his feathers, his mouth, his eyes, as he moved and stared up at the ceiling in ecstasy. Dean's pliant body beneath him seized up as he arched his back.

"Oh my God," said Dean, as he slapped a hand over his brother's eyes.

"What? What is it?" asked Sam.

"Nothing you need to see," said Dean. "Keep walking."

They did, but Dean saw Castiel's lingering look at the window, before they kept moving.

He wondered if Castiel felt disgust, or was wondering about the strange writing habits of humans.

Dean felt like that image had been burned on his retinas.

And it was the most beautiful, sacred thing he had ever seen.


	11. Mid-Season Finale

" _Again?_ Damn, Sam, it's like you've got a fetish or something."

Sam giggled, straight-up _giggled,_ and shut the door of his private motel room in Dean's face.

Dean sighed, resting his forehead against the door.

What was he supposed to do? It was weird enough staying in the same motel where the other two of them were gettin' it on.

There was a loud _thud_ behind him.

He whipped around to see Castiel standing up unsteadily from where he had clearly just collapsed.

"Hey! Okay, okay, time to get inside," said Dean, and went to help him up, supporting his weight as he walked Castiel toward their door.

_Man. Why does he always smell like the air just before a rainstorm?_

Dean shook his head. 

He'd been in this fanfiction world too long. It was starting to infect him.

He got the door open and was partly relieved and partly disappointed to see there were two beds.

"Guess the other two of us got the short straw," he muttered, privately wishing it was him.

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel ground out, staggering to the bed and dropping down onto it.

"Look, Cas, we can't keep doing this," said Dean. "You're gonna run out of gas, and then what?"

"It is not of import."

"Screw import!" said Dean. "I'm not having you mess yourself up just for our sakes! Besides, what happened to making a plan? All we're doing is running!"

Castiel reached out and lightly smacked Dean on the cheek with his open palm.

He left it there, staring at Dean intensely.

Then he said:

"Shut up."

He withdrew his hand and fell back onto the bed, asleep within minutes.

"Yeah, well," groused Dean. "Okay."

He went and sat on the other bed and grabbed the remote.

"Least I have my own bed this time," he said, even though he wished he didn't.

He felt the place where Cas had touched his cheek tingling all night long.

It felt like a brand.

***

Dean started awake.

Sunlight was pouring into the room.

He looked over at Castiel, who looked just as powerful and forbidding in his sleep as he did awake.

That is, until he murmured and rubbed his face, snuggling into the pillow he was now wrapping himself around like an octopus.

_Damn. I love him._

Dean's entire being screeched to a halt.

That thought did not have his permission to exist.

And yet it was there, like cool calm water, an oasis in a forest.

_Safe. I feel safe with him._

_And I never feel safe at all._

"Cas."

The bright blue eye that cracked open gave him a look like there would be some imminent smiting going on.

"Cas, I gotta say something."

"Can it wait?"

"No," said Dean. "It's waited long enough."

Cas was suddenly wide awake, scrambling out of the blankets and pillows.

"No, Dean -"

"I know you heard my prayer," Dean said, determined. "But you didn't hear the part I needed to say most."

Castiel looked horrified and tried to talk over him, but Dean just plowed on anyway. If he didn't get this out, he never would, and there had been too many times losing Cas. He couldn't risk it again, society and his own stupid self-worth problems be damned.

"You saved me," he said. "You _always_ save me. Whether I'm - _Polly,_ whatever the fuck that was about, or Dean, or a demon, or - or anything."

He looked at Cas, who seemed to have accepted this was going to happen. He wished he didn't look so incredibly sad. Maybe human emotions were a great mystery to angels. 

Still. He couldn't help it.

"I'm in love with you, Castiel, angel of Thursday," he proclaimed. "Have been for a long time. I just thought you should know."

"Oh, Dean," he said. "And I always will. Save you. For as long as I can."

He stood up and met Dean, tilting his chin up, meeting his lips in a stunning ray of sunshine that reminded Dean of those motivational religious magnets with the sunbeams through the clouds.

He understood, now. He was having a religious experience himself.

"I'm in love with you too," Castiel whispered against his lips. "It's a beautiful farewell. My love. Beloved. I am sorry."

"Farewell?" asked Dean, eyes closed, in his own private heaven. "Are you going somewhere?"

Castiel's arms wrapped him in a warm embrace, and he kissed Dean again.

"Shh," he said. "Please, Dean. Let me have this."

But now Dean was afraid.

And he never felt afraid when he was with Cas.

He pulled away. Cas's arms tightened around him like a vice, and when Cas wanted to hold onto something, that was the end of it. So he stared at the angel a few inches from his face.

"What's going on?"

Tears forming in his beautiful blue eyes, the warm glow of the sun making them ethereal.

"Goodbye, Dean," he said. 

Then he vanished, as if he'd never been.


	12. Episode 11

Never had Dean gone from aroused and delirious to terrified and alert so quickly. He couldn't have had a bigger shock if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on him.

"Cas?!" he yelled. " _Cas?!_ "

Just then, Sam kicked in the door, gun in hand.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean said.

"I heard yelling!" Sam said. "What happened? Where's Cas?"

"I don't know!" said Dean, feeling desperate tears stinging his eyes, and _not now, not now, really?_ "He was here a second ago, and then - he - he disappeared!"

"I didn't think he could fly," said Sam, putting the gun down.

Dean gave his brother a mournful look full of meaning.

"I don't think he can," he said.

"Did he say anything?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, wiping his eyes. "He said goodbye."

His chest hitched with a sob.

"What am I gonna do without him, Sam?"

"Okay, wait," said Sam. "We don't know where he went. This is fanfiction-land, after all, and -"

"And without an angel cloaking you, you're visible," said a new voice from the doorway.

They both spun around, Sam's gun in the air again.

"Chuck," Sam spat.

Sure enough, Chuck was standing in the doorway.

He gave a little wave.

"Hi, guys," said Chuck.

***

"What the hell did you do to him?" Dean shouted, getting in his face. "Give him back!"

Chuck shrugged.

"Sorry, Dean," he said. "You know how much I loved rebuilding your little windup toy and giving him back to you, over and over. But no can do."

"What?" asked Sam. "Why not?"

Chuck sighed.

"Cas made a deal with the Empty," he said. 

Then he looked surprised.

"And he never told you," said Chuck. "Huh."

"What deal?" growled Dean.

"I'm not sure it's my place to say," Chuck replied.

"You tell us, or so help me - "

"God?" Chuck smiled. Dean's jaw tightened.

Then Chuck laughed.

"Aw," he said. "I never could say no to you guys. All right. So, Cas made a deal with the Empty. If he ever experienced true, real happiness, he'd get sent right back."

The brothers stared at Chuck.

Then Sam looked at Dean.

"That must've been why he wanted me to stop talking," said Dean. " _Fuck._ "

"Can't blame this one on me, guys," said Chuck.

"Why not? You're God."

"The Empty does its own thing."

"Not much of a god if all these stories, and the Empty, are out of your control," Dean grit out. He was spiraling with guilt and rage and grief, but hanging on as hard as he could. "Why'd you even send us here, to fanfiction land, if we're _your favorite show_ , huh?"

"I just wanted to give you the chance at a normal life," said Chuck.

"As women."

"Nothing wrong with women. I started writing these stories over a decade ago. Things have changed a lot, with the MeToo movement and everything, and I mean let's face it guys, this story's always been a sausage fest."

"What, you were trying to _course-correct_ or something?" asked Sam. "Why not just write something new?"

Chuck looked up at Sam slowly, a light shining in his eyes.

"You know what, Sam?" he said. "That's a _brilliant idea._ Supernatural is a trite rehash of its former glory. Sometimes, you gotta let your stories go."

"Wait, Chuck, _no -_ "

"You know what they say," said Chuck, smiling, raising his hand to snap his fingers. 

"Kill your darlings."


	13. Episode 12

Chuck snapped his fingers.

Nothing happened.

Nothing continued to happen.

Dean opened one of his eyes.

"What - ?" Chuck began, when a machete sliced through his neck and his body collapsed.

"What the fuck?" said Dean. Sam opened his eyes and gaped at Chuck's now-headless body.

Standing in the doorway, framed by sunlight, were _another_ Dean, Sam, and Castiel.

Better-lit and with features that were somehow _prettier,_ but Dean recognized himself.

"Can you - uh. Can you do that?" asked Dean.

"Apparently he can," said Sam.

"Ain't his world," said the prettier Dean. "Ain't his rules."

Then he hooked his little finger into Cas's.

"Better get a move on," said the prettier Dean. "Probably won't last, and you don't wanna be here when he gets himself back together again."

"Thanks," said Dean.

"Anytime," replied the prettier Dean, who blatantly checked him out as he walked through the door and past him.

"C'mon," said the prettier Dean to his companions. "Saw a diner a mile back. Let's go get some pie."

And they all swaggered off like heroes, perfectly lit by golden rays of the sun.

"Damn," said Dean, exchanging a look with Sam that told him his brother definitely agreed.

***

"Now what?" asked Sam, when they had gone far enough down the road to get some distance between themselves and whatever Chuck was doing. "They said it wasn't gonna last. So - "

"Got an idea," said Dean. "Hey! Can you send us to the Empty - "

His voice echoed underneath a perfect blue Midwestern sky.

A second later, they were in complete darkness.

"Who do we have here?" asked two manifestations of themselves.

"Great," said Dean. "I'm getting real tired of the carbon copies of us."

"Oh, we're not _copies,_ " they said in tandem. "We _are_ you."

Their voices were in perfect rhythm, slithering across Dean's consciousness, and creeping him the fuck out.

"We've come for the angel," said Dean. "You give him back, we get out of your hair."

"Hmmm," they said, tilting their heads at the same time, like a weird carbon-copy of Cas's little birdlike motion. "Hmmm. We haven't gotten much sleep lately. Not at all. Not at all! We don't like that angel. He never does what he's told. Never sleeps when he should. Tears, tears. All he does is cry. You can have him."

"What?" asked Sam. "That easy?"

The two of them grinned.

"Oh, no," they said. "What's taken away must be replaced. Cannot have that, can we? Hmmmmmm. Which will it be? The self-sacrificing brother whose love damned an angel? The self-righteous brother whose addiction to demon blood almost destroyed reality? Hmmmm."

"Shut up," said Dean, but there was no heat in it. He was thinking.

"I'll do it," said Sam. "I've had a good run, Dean - "

"No, we're not going to do that," said Dean. "Either of us."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"What? How?"

Dean turned to their images.

"What if I offered you something even better than a Winchester?" he asked. "What if I offered you Chuck?"

The Empty just stared at him. It was unnerving, being stared at by himself.

He decided to clarify.

"What if I offered you God?"

The Empty tilted their heads back and forth, slowly, like one of those creepy old clocks that looked like a black cat on the wall.

"Hmmmm," it said. 

Dean caught Sam's gaze. This was one hell of a Hail Mary pass.

"Agreed," said the Empty. "On one condition."

"Which is?" demanded Dean.

The Empty sighed.

"You never let him come back here again," said The Empty. 

Then both of them smiled too wide, their teeth too sharp.

"All he does is whine. _And I need my beauty sleep._ "

"Fair," said Dean. "Agreed."

"He's there."

Suddenly, in the darkness, was the crumpled form of Castiel.

He was kneeling, his trenchcoat pooled around himself.

He was praying.

To who, Dean couldn't even guess.

"Cas."

Castiel gasped and looked around, eyes red, cheeks wet with tears. He sighed and looked away.

"This isn't funny," he ground out. "Don't use his face."

Dean put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No, Cas," he said. "It's me. I've come to take you home."

Castiel's head snapped around to look at him, really _look_ at him.

"Dean?" he cried, standing up, clearly afraid that Dean might shimmer into nothingness and leave him alone again.

"Hiya, Cas," said Dean, and Castiel threw his arms around his friend, burying his face in his shoulder.

Dean looked over at where the twin versions of them were standing.

"Send us back," he said. "To _our_ world, not that fanfiction place. It's our best chance for a game plan."

"Certainly," said The Empty. "I expect you back forthwith."

"You have my word."

"Or," they leered at the three of them, "I'll come looking for you."

***

The next moment, they were standing together in the bunker's war room.

Sam sighed in relief and collapsed into a chair.

Dean reluctantly let go of Castiel.

"Right," he said. "Now we gotta come up with a game plan. And we don't have much time."


	14. Episode 13

"I'm not sure leaving the fanfiction AU was the best idea," mused Sam, as they sat around the table in the bunker. "It's the only place that seems to have weakened Chuck. Like, at all."

"Okay, well, we don't belong there," said Dean. "And if we're going to defeat Chuck, we need to do it on his terms, by his rules, or I don't think it's gonna stick."

"Dean's right," said Castiel. "Even if we were able to defeat him outside of this universe, it wouldn't count."

"Just like some other things don't really count unless they've happened in this one," muttered Dean. Castiel looked at him sharply but didn't respond.

"Fine," said Sam. "I just don't understand how we're going to defeat a guy who can hear what we're thinking, and knows what we're going to do before we do."

Dean sat there, considering, picking at the label of his beer bottle.

"Unless," said Sam. Dean sat up to listen.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, have you guys noticed the writing, if you want to call it that, has been _terrible_ lately?" asked Sam. "No consistency. No respect for canonical world rules."

"Figures," said Dean. "He's wrapping up the story. He's probably bored of it. Going through the motions."

"Sure," said Sam. "But it's really bizarre."

"You tryin' to say that we're gonna win because of _bad writing_?" asked Dean. "Hell. There's been plenty of _that_ in the past. Don't see the difference now."

"Nobody's keeping an eye on the ball, is what I'm saying," said Sam. "And if there are some cracks, then maybe - "

"The light can get in," Castiel finished. "You may be on to something there, Sam. The author only has power so long as things remain internally consistent. Chuck's been injured, and despite his getting better, the fact that you were able to injure him _at all_ is impressive."

"How do we break out of here, then?" asked Dean. "And what if we don't like what's on the other side? I sure don't want to spend the rest of my life as _Polly_ in some coffeeshop AU."

"So _now_ you know what a coffeeshop AU is?" asked Sam, his eyes merry.

"Shut up," said Dean. 

"We do things in this universe that Chuck would never do," said Castiel. "That might wrest the power of the storytelling out of his hands."

"And into the hands of what? The - the _fandom_?" spluttered Dean. "I don't know if I want that."

"No, it's bringing those worlds here," said Sam. "Bringing those AUs to _us_ instead, so you can't tell where Chuck's story ends and those AUs begin."

"Forget it, Sammy," said Dean. "Better the devil - or god - we know. I don't trust these people at all."

"I don't know," said Sam slowly. "I wouldn't mind living in other, better worlds. Where I'm a lawyer, and you're a mechanic or a baker or whatever. And Cas is just an awkward weirdo -"

Cas glared at him. Sam raised his hands in apology.

"Sorry, Cas," said Sam. "But I mean, wouldn't you rather live like that than the nightmare we've been put through like hamsters on a wheel?"

"And all for Chuck's entertainment?" asked Dean.

"That's the thing," said Sam. "We're creations, not writers. We need to tip the balance of power out of Chuck's hands."

"Exercise our free will," said Castiel, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"All right," said Dean. "I'm in. Sure beats having to deal with all this crap. Especially some of the shit Chuck has dreamed up in the past. I don't _ever_ want to be a dog again."

"When were you a dog?" asked Castiel, narrowing his eyes.

"Forget it," said Dean. "What do we need to do to get this ball rollin'?"

Sam shrugged.

"I don't know," he said. "Something that Chuck would never write in a million years."

"I have an idea," said Dean, and he leaned over and planted one on Castiel.

"Whoa!" said Sam. "What the fuck?"

Dean drew back to see Cas's face, the picture of bliss.

"I'm in love with you, Cas," he said. "And yeah. I mean it."

Castiel opened his eyes, serene and blue.

"I'm in love with you, too, Dean," he said. "And I know it's real, because we weren't written that way."

There was a strange tearing sound, like someone was ripping a piece of paper in half.

They all turned to look in the direction of the noise, and saw that there was a rip in the center of the room, looking something like the gate to Purgatory. But instead, all that lay beyond it was the infinite variety of worlds they had all occupied, the thousands of words whose ink had dried years ago, or was just drying now, on the countless books and songs and poems and artwork and stories written in their name.

Like the Renaissance, a celebration of their story.

"Besides," said Dean, reaching for Castiel's hand, "I'm _so much prettier_ out there."

Castiel took his hand and smiled. His eyes were bright.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," said Dean.

"Same here," said Sam. "I'm hoping for a better future."

"That's exactly what he took away from you, you know," said Dean, as another rend appeared in the air.

"What's that?" asked Sam.

Dean turned to his brother with a grin.

"Hope," he said.

"The last thing left in Pandora's box," Castiel agreed.

"Now that we have it back again," said Dean, "we can fight anything."

Sam nodded and smiled. 

The three of them faced the first opening.

"Here goes nothing," said Dean.


	15. Episode 14

The universe opened like a wet paper bag.

The three of them stood there as a wild wind like a hurricane filled the bunker.

Bleeding through, but not quite enough.

"Now what?" asked Dean.

Nothing happened, for a while.

Then two men who looked identical to them, but far better-dressed, walked through the opening.

"What the hell?" said the one that looked like Sam. "Where are the cameras?"

"No marks on the floor either," said the one that looked like Dean.

Then they looked at the Sam, Dean, and Cas standing in front of them.

"Um," said one. "Are we doing a body double episode?"

"Can it," said Dean. "Who the hell are you?"

He leaned over and whispered to Sam.

"This can't be what fanfiction is about? Is it?"

"I'm Jensen," said the one that looked like him, holding out his hand.

"I'm Jared," said the one that looked like Sam, doing the same.

Nobody moved to shake hands.

"Aw hell," said Dean. "You're actors, aren't you."

"Yes," said Jensen. "Aren't you?"

Dean put his head in his hands. He looked at Sam.

"It's that damn television show!" he said. "Remember?"

The light dawned on Sam.

"Oh, wow," he said. "Man, that was _years_ ago."

"This some kind of prank?" asked Jared. 

"No, asshole, we're _you_ ," said Dean. "The _real_ Sam and Dean? Not pampered actors who by the way do _not_ deserve more money."

Suddenly Jared pointed at them. 

" _You!_ " he said. "You maxed out my credit card!"

"Oh, stop whining. You had plenty more where that came from."

"And what the hell was with that giant picture of you riding a horse?"

"And why did you marry _fake Ruby_?"

"That's a hell of a question. My husband was murdered because of you assholes!"

The silence that followed seemed to echo through the bunker.

Behind them, a gentle wind blew from the opening between worlds.

"Excuse me?" asked Dean.

Jensen sighed.

"Yeah," he said. "I know this isn't a prank, because that was...that was then. This is now."

Dean noticed he wouldn't even look at Castiel.

"Misha and us, pranks," he said, through another sigh, "were our thing."

"Misha was _your husband?_ " demanded Dean, his voice going a little high and weird.

"Yes," said Jensen. "And I thought I must've had a nervous breakdown or something, after they said - they said I thought I was Dean. Worst character bleed _ever_. Only - I didn't remember it happening."

"Things weren't really the same after he died," Jared put in.

"So what? You still went on filming after you lost Cas?" Dean demanded.

Sam stared at them.

"They had to," he said. "Contractual obligation."

Jensen nodded, looking miserable.

Dean suddenly felt terrible. 

Castiel didn't say a word.

"Okay, wait," said Sam. "If we were able to get to your world, and now you're able to get into ours, maybe there's always been a rift?"

"Don't think so," said Dean. "If all this is being written by Chuck, they're probably a part of the world, too."

"You're free to go," Castiel finally said, waving at the opening. "If you want to."

This time, Jensen did look at him. There were tears in his eyes.

"No," he said. "I'd rather stay here."

"I'm not your husband," said Castiel. Jensen nodded.

"I know that," he said. "But if there's a way we can change the story, and I can get him back, then I'm willing to try."

"Agreed," said Jared. "What's the plan?"

"Fanfiction," said Dean. Jared and Jensen blanched noticeably.

"Are you sure?" asked Jensen. "They write things that are pretty...uh. Weird."

Dean shrugged.

"It's us versus God," he said. "We've spent far too long on _his_ playing field. We're hoping we can even things out a little bit."

"Chuck seems to get weaker and weaker in worlds where he doesn't control the narrative," Sam explained. "I think we're seeing you first because your world is the first that we were able to break into."

"Angelic power brought you there," said Castiel. "If that world did not have angels, then it was enough of an alternate universe to be outside of Chuck's control."

Suddenly, two more people walked through the opening.

This time, it was a severely scarred, overweight Dean, and a lankier version of Sam, if at all possible. 

"And what version are these guys?" asked Dean.

"The realistic versions of you," said Castiel. 

"What?" asked Dean, offended. Sam grinned.

"Well, Dean, you're not very realistic," Sam said. "You have no scars, you're very fit despite eating like a trashcan, you drive _everywhere,_ and you're not dead of liver failure."

"Neither is he," said Dean.

"Been in the hospital twice now with pancreatitis," said the other Dean. "It's a bitch. I don't recommend it."

Then he looked around the bunker.

"Mind if I smoke in here?" and took out a pack, lighting up without waiting for an answer.

"What the hell?" asked Dean.

"Someone like you would smoke?" offered Sam. His more-realistic mirror smiled shyly at him.

"What's your wifi password?" he asked. Sam's eyes widened. Dean laughed.

"Still a nerd," he crowed.

Soon, more and more versions of themselves stepped in through the opening. Younger, older, thinner, fatter, everything imaginable. Even Polly and Sal eventually made themselves known. And they weren't even the only female versions of themselves that made an entrance.

"I'm not sure the bunker is big enough to hold all these people," said Sam.

"Yeah, why are you living underground?" asked Realistic Dean. "Thought you hated the darkness. Wind in your hair, the wide open road and shit. How many times you gonna be buried underground before you realize it ain't for you?"

Dean had to admit the guy had a point. But there was something else bothering him.

"Hey," he said. "There's all these different versions of us. But where's Cas? I don't see more versions of him."

They turned to Castiel, and were immediately taken aback.

Castiel stood at the center of different images of himself fanning out to each side like wings, like looking into two mirrors at the same time, reflections that folded in on themselves over and over again. But there was Castiel dead-center, still looking very real and very defined.

"Because, Dean," he said. "Like I told you before. I'm the one that's rebelled longer than anyone here. I'm the one with the crack in his chassis, the one that shows up in stories where I don't belong."

He smiled, and touched Dean's face.

"I'm the one who fell in love with you despite Chuck's permission."

He indicated the crowd that had gathered there.

"All of these iterations are the result of inspiration," he said. "Millions of words have been written about us, so many songs and paintings, sculptures and artwork. The Renaissance was the result of the Bible. All of this was the result of Chuck's Winchester Gospels. And in all the words he wrote, I was the first character that did not behave as he expected. I did not do as I was told."

"I'm in love with you, Dean Winchester," he said. "And that was never Chuck's intention. You falling in love with me also started to break his hold over you. The only reason we were able to get all of these other versions of ourselves here is because we were already rebelling, a long time ago."

"Team Free Will," said Sam. "We play the game on _our terms_ now _._ "

Castiel nodded.

"So when you asked me what was real," he said. "I meant what I said."

Dean reached out and took his hand.

"We are," he said.


	16. Episode 15

"What the hell is this?"

Everyone present turned to see Chuck standing on the stairs of the bunker.

He shook his head and tutted.

" _This_ is how you think you can defeat me?" he asked, walking down the stairs slowly, step by step. "With the half-baked characters from any one of a million lesser writers? I'd be offended, but then, you were never exactly the best critics when it came to great literature."

"You think this shit you write is great literature?" Dean demanded. "Wow. Hell of an ego."

"Yeah," said Sam. "Things have gotten a little tired lately. This is just _bad writing,_ Chuck."

Chuck finally stepped off the staircase. 

He put a hand over his heart.

"I'm hurt," he said. "Actually, I'm not at all. But you can take your opinions, and this - this - "

He indicated Dean and Cas, who were still standing very close together.

" - aberration, will be finished very soon," he said.

Dean looked over at Castiel, because he hadn't replied.

Castiel was staring at Chuck with narrowed eyes.

"Cas?" asked Dean.

"Something's not right," Castiel growled.

The door above them clanged open.

"I'm _home!_ " called a voice. "Oh, well, not really _my_ home, but you know what I mean. Anyway, you guys would _not believe_ the things we saw out there, I had no idea there were so many solar systems! And _I_ made them!"

Chuck paused on the landing, holding a lot of bags, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and still holding on to a hurricane glass that read _I Got Crabs At Big Dick's._ His smile wavered, and then disappeared, when he saw the tableau before him.

"Guys?"

"You're not Chuck," said Castiel in triumph, and grabbed hold of the Chuck standing in front of him.

"Aw, _man,_ " said the Chuck in Castiel's grip. "And I didn't even eat candy! Do you have any idea what it was like, denying myself? And for nothing. Got rumbled by my little brother. Embarrassing."

The Chuck on the staircase stared down at them.

"Gabriel?!" he exclaimed. "What on earth is going on here? I leave for _one_ vacation and the kids completely trash the place."

Grinning, the Chuck in front of Castiel wavered, and resolved into the features of Gabriel.

"Eh, couldn't last forever," said Gabriel. "Couldn't resist. Nice grip you got there, little bro."

He did not elaborate further, because Castiel had punched him in the face.

"Whoa, whoa!" called Chuck, hurrying down the stairs. "That's enough, kids! You and Gabriel go to your separate corners. I need to sort all this out. Sam, Dean."

Chuck nodded at the two of them, who were so gobsmacked they just stood there staring at him.

Castiel and Gabriel glared at each other from their respective corners of the room.

"All right, okay, so you go here, and you go back to this universe, and - " Chuck talked to himself through the entire thing. Eventually all the AU versions of them were gone.

"And one last thing - " said Chuck, and lifted the torn-paper opening, smoothing it over with his hands. "Okay. All done! Good as new."

Then he rubbed his hands together, clapped, and turned around.

"Okay! So," he said, "Wrecking the house while I'm gone, torturing your siblings, setting things on fire, invalidating various universes, sounds like the kind of thing kids get up to."

He looked at Sam and Dean.

"What's new?"


	17. Episode 16

"Care to explain yourself, Gabe?" asked Dean.

"Dunno," he said. "Seemed like fun at the time. Did get a little old, though, you guys are usually a lot swifter on the uptake."

"Sorry about that," said Sam. "You made my girlfriend stab me!"

"Is that true, Gabriel?" asked Chuck. Gabriel refused to look at him.

"He did always like to impersonate gods," said Castiel. "Just not the God."

"I'm hurt you guys would think this of me," said Chuck. "I mean. Torture? Mind control? You know me, I'm a hands-off kinda guy."

"Yeah well maybe you should get a little more hands-on!" bellowed Dean. "He killed Jack!"

"Oh, calm down," said Gabriel. "Jack is fine. You got him back, didn't you?"

"Yeah, after he was in the Empty!" said Dean.

"Where is Jack, by the way?" asked Chuck. "I brought him some gifts from my trip. I know they say you shouldn't spoil your grandkids, but what can I say?"

"He's elsewhere," growled Castiel, still trying to burn holes in Gabriel with his eyes. "And a good thing, too, with what this idiot was doing."

"Care to explain yourself, son?" asked Chuck. "You've put these people through a lot. I think you owe them an apology, at the very least."

"I want to know how you were able to manipulate Eileen," said Sam. 

"Oh, I didn't manipulate her," said Gabriel. "That was all her. I just told her that to get her out of here. No, you guys are the real thing, can't say I see the appeal. She's kinda scrawny, Moose."

Sam was about to give Gabriel his second punch of the day when Chuck intervened.

"Okay, I can see tempers are running high," said Chuck. "Why don't we all go to separate parts of the bunker and cool off a little? Meet back here for dinner. I'm cooking! Found an amazing recipe."

They all kept staring angrily at each other, but were surprised to find themselves moving off to their respective rooms while Gabriel stayed in the same place. Chuck went off to the kitchen, nattering the whole way about how glad he was to be home with his family and how they were going to just love the new recipes he had learned.

***

"Dean."

Dean turned to see Castiel hovering in the doorway.

"Yeah, Cas?" he said.

"May I come in?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

Castiel walked into the room and then perched primly on the edge of Dean's bed.

Dean would not have expected him to be able to do anything primly, given that he was a warrior of God and all, but he managed.

"I am sorry I did not realize it was Gabriel sooner."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it," said Dean. "None of us noticed."

"I should have," said Castiel. "We spent millennia together. I know how his mind works, how his tricks and his pranks are often cruel. I should have -"

Dean covered Castiel's hand with his own. The angel stopped talking and looked at Dean with a question in his eyes.

"Cas, it's not on you," he said. "I'm just glad we got the real Chuck back. He always got on my nerves, but at least he ain't a sadistic psychopath."

Castiel sighed.

"Do you think that means we're not - that this isn't - ?" 

He nodded toward their joined hands.

Dean squeezed Castiel's hand and gave him a serious look.

"This is the only thing that's real," he reassured him. 

***

An hour later, Chuck called them back out.

"Holy shit," said Dean, his eyes widening.

The bunker was absolutely filled to the brim with everything they loved. Cheeseburgers and beer. Strawberries and cream. Salads. Nachos. Some kind of glowing blue thing that smelled like ozone, Dean assumed it was angel food. There were even bowls of candy overflowing, despite the things that Gabriel had done.

"What's all this for?" asked Dean.

Chuck opened his arms.

"It is a feast!" he said. "For all of my prodigal sons."

"He doesn't deserve it," said Castiel of Gabriel.

"They don't deserve it," said Gabriel.

"Kids," said Chuck, "it doesn't matter. Forgiveness is eternal. God is love. Now eat up before it gets cold, and be nice to each other."

He gave Castiel a sharp look.

"That means not kicking your brother underneath the table," he said, and Castiel looked appropriately guilty.

Reluctantly, they sat around the table together, and started passing plates and bowls around.

For a long time, nobody spoke. 

Then Chuck, irrepressibly joyful and enthusiastic, clapped his hands.

"Well, if nobody else wants to start, then I will," he said. "There are so many wonderful things out there, things you wouldn't believe."

He looked around the table with fondness and sighed.

"I'm so glad to be back home among family," he said, and beamed at them.


	18. Episode 17

"You can't just pretend everything is fine and make it go away," said Dean.

He pushed his chair back from the table.

"Don't get me wrong," he said. "This food is awesome, and I'm glad that you're you, and not whatever crazy-ass thing Gabe had going on."

"I'm touched," said Gabriel. Castiel kicked him under the table.

"What did I say about kicking your brother?" Chuck admonished, then sighed. "Yes, I know, Dean. Appropriate punishments will be handed out."

"Such as?" asked Sam.

"I just wanted to have one nice dinner before we got right down to it," said Chuck.

"We're done eating," said Castiel. His angry gaze had never left Gabriel's face.

"That what does it for ya, eh, Dean?" asked Gabriel, wiggling his eyebrows. "Gotta admit, it is intense."

"Kids, kids," said Chuck, making placating hand motions. "Settle down. You're right, I was being selfish, just wanted some family time."

He leaned his cheek on his hand, pushing a piece of pancake around with his fork in the strawberry syrup.

"Gabriel got his taste for this stuff from me," said Chuck. "And that was so clever of you, Sam, when you figured it out! I'm so proud of all of you. Everyone at this table is one of the good guys, just in different ways."

Then he looked up at the table.

"And just so you know," he said. "The Winchester Gospels are called that because Sam and Dean are such major characters in them. But they aren't the stars."

Now everyone stared at him, confused.

Then he gave Castiel a fond look.

"Always did love stories about rebels," he said. "Jesus was my other favourite character. I mean, you gotta get behind a guy like that!"

"Wait a second," said Dean. "You're telling us the Winchester Gospels are about...Cas?"

Chuck shrugged.

"Well, yeah," he said. "Rebel angel, but a good guy? That's a trope I'll always love. Fighting against all odds, with his human friends, doing what's right even though everything he knows tells him it's wrong?"

"But Cas didn't even show up in our lives until we were adults," said Sam. "How does that have any - oh."

He looked at Dean.

"Oh, what?" Dean demanded.

"Falling in love," said Sam. "We matter because you're the one Castiel rebelled for."

"Sorry, kids," said Chuck. "I value all of you the same, but Cas here was the real point of the entire story. Even Jack is Castiel's. This was supposed to be told from the POV of the man who would love the rebel angel. So we needed a hell of a lot of background."

Castiel, in all this, was completely silent.

"Cas?" asked Chuck. "Are you okay?"

Castiel looked up at him. His blue eyes were unreadable.

"I'm the side character," he all but whispered. "I'm not the hero. I don't want to be the hero. The hero loses everything, that's what Dean told me Garth said. I can't lose everything."

Chuck shrugged.

"I don't know how to tell you this," he said, "but it's always been you. You're my favourite angel, Cas. Why do you think I kept remaking you over and over?"

"I assumed because Dean needed me," said Castiel. "That's what he said."

"Cas, I didn't mean - like a weapon," said Dean. "Hell, for a guy who can dreamwalk and read minds, you've got some kind of brick wall in your head, man."

"Is this my punishment?" Castiel said, eyes downcast again.

"What? No!" said Chuck. "I'm telling you this because I want you to put things in perspective. When I started writing this story, I wanted a rebellious angel. Tried with Anna, that didn't quite work out, so I got rid of her. But then - 

If I wrote a story about an angel who had always followed orders, whose resolve began to crumble because of one man - that would be exactly the kind of modern gospel people might need! The positive LGBTQ representation, first of all; the concept of something religious accepting something human as an allegory for people of all sexualities and genders finding God's love and acceptance; and of course the ultimate love story of an eternal, immortal being falling in love with a human. The firmament of heaven, the simplicity of the earth, it's all very epic and cosmic."

"And good writing," said Sam, smiling. Chuck nodded and smiled back.

"Thank you, Sam," he said. "But I'm not arrogant enough to believe I've always written well. Every writer has their weak spots, their poorly-crafted storylines."

"But this recent bad writing was all me," said Gabriel proudly.

"Why would you be proud of that?" Dean asked.

"So," said Chuck loudly over their squabbling, "I'm going to offer all of you a gift. Or a punishment, however you wish to see it."

They all stopped arguing and looked at him.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Dean, suspicious.

"Well, you've seen all those universes out there," said Chuck. "So I'm going to give you a choice."

"A choice...between universes?" asked Sam slowly.

"Yep," said Chuck. "If you're unhappy in this one, I can put you in another. Better be sure about it, though. It's a one-way deal, no take-backsies."

He popped the bite of pancake into his mouth and chewed contemplatively. 

Then he pointed at Dean with his fork.

"The choice is yours."


	19. Episode 18

"Wow."

"That's all you gotta say? _Wow?_ "

Sam and Dean were sitting at the table, drinking whisky. Chuck and Jack had left earlier so that he could show off the gifts he had brought.

Castiel had just...left.

"I need to be alone for a while," he had ground out. "Think about things."

And with that, he had vanished with that old familiar sound of wings.

It made Dean's heart hurt.

He looked into his whisky glass as if it would give him answers, turning it around and around in his hand, watching the golden liquid move honey-slow across the glass.

"You're leaving."

He said it flat, but he didn't look at his brother.

He couldn't.

_Everybody leaves you, Dean._

"I never wanted this life," Sam told him gently. "I got out."

"And I dragged you back in."

"Yeah," said Sam. "And, I mean, it's tempting. Just like it was when we were in their universe."

Dean felt a little spark of hope he tamped down immediately.

"But Dean."

He finally managed to look up into his brother's hazel eyes.

"This is _home._ "

Dean started to smile, relief washing over him.

"So no, I won't be leaving this universe," said Sam. "Before you celebrate, I want to clarify. I'm staying here - but I want out of the life."

Dean just watched him, wary.

"We've had a good run," said Sam. "A damn good run. But it's time, Dean. I want other things. I want a peaceful life. And if Chuck has the power to put us into other universes, I'm sure he has the power to ensure a simple life for me, and for Eileen. If she'll join me."

Dean was silent.

"Do you think you can handle that?" asked Sam. "This means no late-night hunts, okay? Nothing. I'm out of the game for good."

"Won't you get bored?" asked Dean, fishing for everything, telling himself _at least he's not leaving where you'll never see him again._

"Maybe," said Sam. He laughed. "Bored. I can't even imagine."

"Look, I ain't happy about it," said Dean. "But yeah. I guess it's time for me to let you go."

He was surprised to see Sam's eyes well up with tears.

"Thank you," he said. "And it's not like we'll never see each other again. But man, this codependency shit has _got_ to end. I've got a life to live."

He quirked a smile at his brother.

"And you know what, Dean?" he said. "So do you."

"Don't know about that, Sammy," said Dean, finally draining the rest of the whisky. "I'm a career soldier. A hunter. Always have been, always will be."

"Yeah," said Sam. "And that's what makes you happy. It's time we both found the things that make us happiest."

"Rather not do it without you, though," said Dean. 

"I think you'll find that you already have the perfect partner, hunting or otherwise."

***

Dean found Castiel standing in the field near the bunker, staring up at the stars.

"Getting any messages?" asked Dean, as he walked up to Cas.

Castiel turned and raised an eyebrow.

"I am remembering the days we hung those stars," said Cas, and with those few words, a chasm seemed to yawn at Dean's feet, reminding him that this ancient and incomprehensible being had chosen to stay by his side.

As far as he knew.

As far as he hoped.

"So, uh," he said, coughing, fighting down that horror that everyone would leave him, "you thought about Chuck's offer? How does it feel to be the hero?"

"I admit that I was surprised," he said. "But I have thought about it, and if that's what Chuck wants, then that's how the story will go."

"And the other part?" Dean prompted.

"What other part?" asked Castiel.

"His offer, to leave for another universe," Dean said, hating himself for reminding Castiel of the easy get-out-of-jail-free card they'd just been offered.

Dean wouldn't want to leave this universe.

He couldn't.

It was his own.

Castiel was looking at him as if he had said something puzzling.

"I would never leave this universe," he said. "You're in it."

Dean gaped at him.

"But - " he said, wondering why he was trying to ruin things for himself, "you could be somewhere safe, or somewhere you were powerful, or somewhere you could be in your true form again."

"Would any of those universes contain this Dean Winchester?" he asked, turning his attention to the heavens again. "Not interested."

Dean saw a universe there, in the simple man in a trenchcoat looking up at the stars.

"Cas," he said.

The angel turned to look at him again, unreadable, unfathomable, a creature outside of time.

"You really wanna stay here with just me?" he asked, a bashful note creeping into his voice.

Warrior, weapon, fighter, there was nothing more vulnerable in Dean Winchester than showing how much, _too_ much, he cared about others.

"Do you see the stars in the sky up there?" Castiel replied. Dean nodded. "And the trees, the forest. The earth that turns beneath our feet. I have watched galaxies be born and die."

He came close to Dean, and kissed him.

Then he looked him in the eye.

"Those are _just_ galaxies, _just_ forests, _just_ time," he murmured against his lips. 

"You are my reason. And I will follow you anywhere you lead me, Dean Winchester. If you'll have me."


	20. Episode 19

"So!" said Chuck, as they all filed back into the bunker and joined him at the table. "Did you guys make your decisions?"

Everyone nodded.

"Sam?"

"Staying here," he said. "But _only_ on the condition that I'm out of the life. If you can write us into other universes, you can do that too. I just want a simple life."

Chuck looked at him with something like pride in his eyes.

"Done," he said. "You've been through enough, Sam. You deserve a reward."

He turned to Dean.

"Staying," said Dean. "And hunting."

Chuck smiled.

"I should've known."

"I'm leaving."

Dean stared at Gabriel in shock.

"You what?" he asked.

Gabriel shrugged and then sighed.

"It's been fun, you guys," he said, "but all this running around in hiding and playing these ridiculous games? I've had enough. Besides, I've been thinking about it, and maybe you didn't deserve what I did to you."

" _Maybe?_ " Dean demanded, but Chuck shushed him.

"Are you certain about this, son?" he asked. Gabriel nodded. "I won't send you somewhere that you can wreak havoc. If you stay here, you have to stay where I can see you. If you go, then I am sending you somewhere that you'll have no powers. You'll just be human. That is your punishment."

Dean was surprised that Gabriel didn't argue, but seemed to accept it readily, as if this was what he had expected all along. He narrowed his eyes.

"Humans can fuck shit up too," said Dean. "I'd put him somewhere in jail, in another universe. Human, too."

"Love you too, Dean," snarked Gabriel.

"You're right," said Chuck. "But I have to give him a chance to turn things around."

"But -"

"Leave it, Dean," said Sam. "He's getting punished, and that's good enough. If he can't harass people the way he harassed us, then that's a bonus."

Dean grumbled for a while, and crossed his arms.

"Fine," he said.

Gabriel did look contrite, but then again, it was _Gabriel._ Dean didn't trust that weaselly little shit further than he could throw him.

"I have a request," Castiel's deep voice rumbled by his side.

Dean shot him a look.

_He's changed his mind,_ he thought. _Now that he knows Gabriel's leaving, he's decided he can't stand to be with me, I've put him through too much, he'll -_

"Can you make me human too?"

There was utter silence in the room.

Chuck stared at him as if he wasn't certain what to think.

"You want to go with Gabriel?" he asked. Castiel shook his head.

"No," he said. "I want to stay right here. But - "

He took Dean's hand.

"I want to grow old with him."

Dean's heart went from that old familiar dark and wrenching feeling to the sensation it was about to burst out of his chest.

"Are you sure, Castiel?" asked Chuck. "It means giving up your powers, and access to heaven, and traveling at the speed of thought. All useful to a hunter, if that's what you're planning to be."

Castiel gave him a rare smile.

"I've thought about it," he said. "And the worst punishment in the world would be to go on living forever after Dean is gone. I want us to be equals."

"Even if there's no guarantee this is a forever thing?" asked Dean, immediately hating himself for the question.

Cas's eyes, clear and blue as the summer, regarded him with a look that made him weak in the knees.

"It's enough," he said, and somehow that was worth a thousand _I love you_ 's.

Dean didn't know what to say. His tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth.

What could he possibly give Castiel in return?

Again, the great chasm beneath him, of what Castiel was, of what Castiel was choosing to sacrifice, _for him, for him,_ careened wildly through his mind.

"Granted," Chuck said.

And with a wave of his hand, Gabriel vanished.

"I'll be in touch," said Sam, as he vanished, too.

"What the hell, Chuck?" said Dean. "I can't even say goodbye?"

Chuck shrugged again.

"You always draw them out," he said. "Ripping off the Band-Aid is easier."

"I would have liked to say goodbye to Gabriel," groused Castiel. "He's my brother."

"Nothing is forever in this universe," said Chuck, smiling. "Not even death."

"I thought you said no take-backsies," said Dean.

"I wanted to make sure you made the right decisions," said Chuck. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a poker game with Amara to attend, and I'm late. Enjoy your lives, my children."

"Does that mean you're not coming back?" asked Castiel.

Chuck shook his head.

"Nothing is forever, like I said," he told Cas. "But I think you two need to be on your own, for a little while."

Dean's cell phone rang, and he saw it was from Sam.

"Answer that," said Chuck. "I don't want you unable to start your new lives because you're worried about your brother."

"Sammy?" asked Dean, after he picked up the phone.

"Dean, you should see it!" Sam crowed. "This house is _amazing!_ Farmland too, more than forty acres for sure."

"You gave Sam a _house?_ " Dean mouthed to Chuck.

"Sure," he said. "I gave you this bunker too, didn't I?"

"I got buried alive, Chuck," Dean said. "I'd have preferred something a little sunnier!"

"Gotcha," said Chuck, nodding to himself.

"What?" Sam asked. "What's going on? Is Chuck still there?"

"Yeah," growled Dean. "He's leaving, though."

"Well, tell him thank you," said Sam. Dean heard the honking of a distant horn. "That's Eileen, I have to go. But I'll give you the address and directions - once I figure out what they are! Eileen will know. Or - no, she says she just turned up here."

"But you're okay?" Dean asked.

"More than okay," said Sam, and Dean couldn't deny the note of happiness in his voice, something Dean hadn't heard for years, if he was being honest. "I'm home."

"Okay," said Dean. "Talk to you later, Sammy."

"Bye!" said Sam, and Dean ended the call.

"So?" asked Chuck. "Happy?"

Dean looked from Chuck to Castiel, then down at the phone.

He slowly looked up.

He put his hand in Castiel's again.

"You know," he said, "I think I am."


	21. Episode 20

_**THIRTY YEARS LATER** _

The house is big and ramshackle.

The paint is peeling on the outside, showing gray beneath.

The summer sun is bright overhead, but the day is warm and pleasant. Not too hot, with a warm wind.

An old record player is scratching out _Kashmir_ by Led Zeppelin.

Inside, the house is old-fashioned, wooden walls and bare beams, but beautiful and well-loved.

There's an old-style phone on the desk in this comfortable room, in this comfortable house.

It rings.

"Cas! Can you get that!"

The ringing stops and Dean hears Castiel pick up the phone and say, "Hello?"

Dean steps out of the shower and looks in the mirror.

He's in his seventies now. He finds the face looking back at him somehow familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

Those green eyes, though. What was it that Ray Bradbury said, in _Something Wicked This Way Comes?_ You can always tell by the eyes. They stay the same.

He flatters himself that he's still handsome. A silver fox. After all, Paul Newman still looked great right up until the end.

He dresses himself, still the old plaid, black shirt, jeans, combination. 

Sue him. He likes to be comfortable.

Even more so, now that he's an old man.

He shakes his head. _Old man._

How many hunters can say that?

In a cloud of steam, he exits the bathroom.

He sees Castiel standing there on the phone, and falls in love all over again.

Just like every time he sees his ex-angel.

Cas is old too, now; he aged a little more than Dean. But then, he was so much older than Dean that he figures it was inevitable.

Still. He's beyond handsome, even hot, despite his advanced years.

And those Sinatra baby blues, oh man.

They've never changed.

"We'll be here," Cas was saying, in that gravel voice he still had all these years later.

The local doc kept asking if he smoked or drank a lot in his youth.

When Castiel informed him _I drank a liquor store once_ with a straight face, thankfully the doc thought it was a joke. Dean had laughed all the way home that day.

He and Cas had found this place. Or rather, it had found them.

Chuck had left a note.

 _For Lazarus,_ it said. _With my sincerest apologies._

And wouldn't you know, this time he got it right.

It was a comfortable house, that sagged in all the right places, just like a favorite old sofa or chair, or a stuffed animal. 

_Home_ , it said, in every nook and cranny. 

And Dean and Cas took to it as if they had always been there.

The bunker was made available to the entire network of hunters, who used it as a place for research, to meet up, as a free motel. It had something of Ellen's Roadhouse about it.

But that was a game for the young. Dean and Cas had left them to it.

Not that they didn't do a few things. 

Just to keep their hand in, so to speak.

"Dean's here," Cas was saying. "Do you want to speak with him?"

"Nah, it's okay," Dean waved him off. "He'll be here soon. We can talk then."

Cas nodded.

"Sam says the same thing," he told him. "He and Eileen about two hours away, and will be here shortly."

"Great," said Dean. "Remind him to get me some pie."

"Dean says get him pie," Cas said into the receiver.

He looked up.

"Sam said the doctor says you can't have pie," said Cas.

Dean gave him a brilliant grin.

"Your brother thinks smiling at me will make you cave somehow," said Cas. "Sam says he is immune to your dubious charms."

"Hey," said Dean mildly. "Tell him we'll see him soon."

"See you soon, Sam," said Cas. "Goodbye."

Castiel hung up the phone.

"Any news?" Dean asked, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms.

"He says there might be a haunting a couple of towns over," said Castiel. "If you'd like to check it out."

"Sounds like our kinda thing," said Dean.

"Indeed," said Cas.

"We've got work to do," Dean said. "But there's something more important we need to do first."

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" he asked. "What's that?"

Dean turned up the music, and held out his hands.

Smiling, Castiel went into his arms.

And there, in the sunlight and cool breeze of a midsummer day, Dean and Castiel swayed back and forth together, syrup-sweet and slow, as the dust motes danced in the beams of light at once mundane and holy.

And they waited for Sam to come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! This was an idea I'd had for years and it was very weird to write. Given the way this season is going and how meta it is, I figured this was the time to finish it. This is the way that I would have ended the show, if it were up to me. Or something like it. I hope you enjoyed this very bizarre take on the story!


End file.
